Chapter Text
"Shaxx...I'm detecting another Ghost."
Lord Shaxx tears his gaze away from the mountain before them and casts a glance toward his Ghost. There is an edge in his voice, stern yet concerned, "Another Warlord?"
"No. I don't recognize this Ghost's signal."
The Warlord pivots, scanning the treeline as he speaks, "Where is it?"
"A few meters ahead." The Little Light supplies, facing the direction of the signal.
His boots carry him over bramble and undergrowth until he's just inside a small clearing. There's a body in the middle, and even from where he's standing, the Titan can see how maimed it is. "I see it's Light-Bearer...now where is it?" He takes another step forward, scanning the brush along the backside of the clearing before he calls out. "It's alright, little Ghost. You won't be harmed. You can come out."
The silence stretches on for an indecisive minute before the Ghost in question floats beyond the safety of its hiding place among the branches.
"There you are," Lord Shaxx smiles pleasantly beneath his helm before he kneels beside the corpse. He reaches for it, gently rolling it onto its side to get a better look at it.
"Don't--!" The Ghost protests abruptly, darting forward a few feet before retreating just as quickly to stay out of his reach. The Warlord can hear the panic in its voice.
"It's alright. I'm not going to hurt her."
"She's already dead, I--"
Shaxx looks from the Ghost down to the Light-Bearer. She's an Awoken, her markings peeking out from beneath dried blood along her brow line. There is no subtle whisper of Light beneath her skin like every other Awoken he's ever met - of course, that could just be a side effect of her deceased state. His eyes travel along the damage to where her helmet is shattered, barely concealing half her features and the rest of her armor isn't much better in its current state.
"She's...fresh out of the grave, isn't she?" He questions at last, taking in the full extent of her injuries. Her enemies had been deliberate with every blow. They'd carved up entire portions of her skin, shattered bones and damn near slit her throat. He can't tell if she bled out or died from any number of these wounds. There's even a stab wound through her heart.
This was...unwarranted. Excessive. Stupid.
Her Ghost's voice drags him from his silent fuming, "Yes...a few weeks."
"And what happened here?" He pulls his hands back, allowing the corpse to settle back in its face down state as he gazes expectantly over at the target of his inquiry.
The Ghost hesitates but an encouraging nod from Shaxx's Ghost prompts him to speak. "There's a village not far from here. We were speaking with one of the residents when we encountered a Warlord on his way there. He was bragging about what he'd do when he arrived. We wanted to buy some time for those people to escape, so... we sent the villager to evacuate. She was holding her own against him until they - they all attacked at once. She died. They made me rez her fifteen more times before I was able to hide." He sounds ashamed as the glowing eye drifts to her corpse, "I was waiting for it to be safe to bring her back. It's been hours."
There's a sharp edge in his voice, a flare of barely contained rage and irritation, "You did the right thing, little Ghost. You spared her more suffering." His tone softens as he studies her battered frame, "Rez her."
"...she'll attack you."
"I'll be fine. But I can't help her if she's like this."
"Right." The Ghost darts to her, Light igniting the small clearing in a brilliant flash. A sharp inhalation and then she's coughing as she slowly pushes herself up to her knees.
"Easy--"
Shaxx barely gets the word out before a knife he hadn't seen prior has slashed along the arm closest to her. He flinches, reeling back just enough to avoid another blind slash but this time, he catches hold of her wrist and tugs her upward just enough for her to see his helmet. He can read panic in her visible eye, the fear in every tremor of her body. But there's something else - defiance. It's there, buried beneath the panic, but it's there.
The heart of a Light-Bearer.
He reacts when she drops the knife into her other hand and goes for a jab at his neck. He blocks it easily. The attack was sloppy, desperate at best. He recognizes it as a way of distracting her opponent, keeping his full attention on her with something that would make any foe furious - an attempt at a lethal blow.
She had meant to protect that village when she attacked that other Warlord and his party. She kept their attention for a time. She accomplished what she set out to do. But now it's time to stop.
He holds both her wrists securely, she's struggling to get free but his voice seems to cut through the panic. "It's alright. You're safe now. I'm not here to hurt you."
Her head snaps up, emerald eyes locking with his own through his visor. He watches as she grapples for her senses, reality settling over her like a weight. She opens her mouth to say something but stops, looking around quickly until she sees her Ghost and she visibly relaxes.
"I'm right here." Her Ghost assures her gently, floating closer to bump up against her shoulder with something like affection in his voice.
She stares at him and then looks up at Shaxx, summoning a weak nod. She looks terrified and he almost feels bad for how long it took for him to get there. A few hours sooner - no point in dwelling on that now. He needs to get her somewhere safe.
She lightly tugs at her wrists in his grasp. Not enough to be interpreted as angry but more so to get his attention. He tilts his head and she nods to where he's holding her in place.
Oh.
He gently releases her wrists and takes a step back. She retreats another few steps and slides her blade back into the sheath along her gauntlet as her Ghost hovers near her shoulder. Her visible eye seems to study the Titan cautiously as her fingers work to pry off the cracked remnants of her helmet and let it drop to the ground. The armor had been brittle to begin with, covered in rust and chipped, dated paint. It's no surprise the beating she took did her no favors for preserving the relic.
It's then that he notices the soft glow has returned beneath her skin. Awoken resemble humanity so much, but Shaxx has always thought of that Light beneath their skin to resemble water when it reflects the sun.
"Do you have a name?" He asks gently.
She shakes her head.
"We hadn't really settled on anything yet," Ghost supplies, trying to act somewhat as a liason.
She, on the other hand, had no interest in such formalities. There is distrust etched into her features and he doesn't blame her. What she experienced would make anyone wary of other Light-Bearers. She threads her fingers through the sweat matted silver locks to push them back out of her face and shifts her weight to her other hip. She looks...dead. There is no gentle way of putting it. She must have been without food and water for awhile. There's a thinness to her frame, evidence of malnutrition. What remains of her mismatched armor hangs off her unnaturally. As for that fire he'd seen in her eyes, it has ebbed to embers. She looks ready to drop at any moment.
Lord Shaxx plucks his canteen off his belt and holds it out to her, "My name is Shaxx."
Her eyes dart between the canteen and his helm before tentatively shuffling close enough to accept it with an appreciative nod. Her fingers are trembling a little as she undoes the cap and takes a long drink.
"Your Ghost tells me you're fresh out of the grave."
She nods again, this time in confirmation as she takes another long drink.
Nods seem to be the only answers he's ever going to get out of her. "Those men, the Warlord - were they the first Light-Bearers you've met?"
She nods again and Shaxx curses under his breath. He's certain she's surmised he's a Light-Bearer based solely on his Ghost, but being a Warlord? He can't tell her that. She may think him like the other she'd encountered and any hope of gaining her trust will be dashed. His words don't go unnoticed either; her head tilts, brows drawn together in confusion as if silently prodding him for an explanation.
"It's nothing. We should get moving before he doubles back. Can you walk?"
She seems to consider his words more than her capacity for movement for a long moment. And then she closes the cap on the canteen, holding it out stiffly.
His head tilts in confusion, looking from the canteen to her solemn features. "You should drink more than that."
She takes half a step closer and holds it out more insistently.
"I don't believe we're coming with you, Shaxx." Her Ghost supplies just before the Hunter nods in confirmation.
"It's not safe out here."
"We've managed thus far."
The Titan looks between them before casting a glance in the direction of the mountain. He can't force her to come with him, she is a Hunter after all. They're renowned for surviving in the wilderness but she's ill-equipped for the weather that's coming. It's nearly winter. With how thin her clothes appear, she'll freeze to death in the coming nights.
His gaze drops to her defiant expression, "Then allow me to make an offer."
She tilts her head expectantly.
"Come with me. Stay at my fortress for a few days while we get you better armor and equipment for the coming winter. You can go whenever you like."
She frowns slightly, that same flare of distrust in her eyes as she studies his features.
"You have my word, no harm will come to you while you travel with me." He says softly.
"Why are you helping us?" Her Ghost questions on her behalf. They've only been together for a few weeks and it seems she's taken to letting it answer for her. It's...odd, but it seems to suit them.
"Not all Light-Bearers strive for territory and power." He answers softly, "And I make a habit of aiding New Lights where I can."
The Ghost looks to his Hunter and she nods a swift, decisive nod. "Alright. We accept. We'll go with you."
"Excellent. We should get moving if we want to reach the mountain's base by nightfall." Shaxx makes his way out of the clearing, listening to abrupt trample of brush as the Hunter begins to follow.
For the next few hours, she keeps up but maintains a solid distance between them. She doesn't trust him and that's fine with the Warlord. He's just relieved she's accepting his aid. If she decides to stay for the duration of the winter, all the better. She wouldn't be the first Light-Bearer to stay within the walls of his fortress for prolonged periods of time. He's come to befriend those who pass through - apparently a Warlord not hell-bent on conquest is refreshing for everyone - or so he's told.
It's only when the sun begins to set and darkness creeps up around them that he stops. She must be lost in thought because she damn near stumbles into his back, catching herself moments before disaster and retreats back a few feet. They're close to the mountain's base but it isn't safe to begin their ascent this late at night. He can feel her curious gaze on him as he scans the area, "We'll make camp here for the evening."
She manages a tired nod and moves to collect some firewood. It surprises him, how quick she is to accept his decisions. Perhaps she's simply too tired to argue. They'd made excellent time getting here, she'd managed to keep up with his long strides but there's no doubt in his mind it took its toll on the Hunter.
The next half hour passes in silence, Shaxx building the fire, the Hunter keeping watch. By the time the flames are ablaze, she's trembling from the brisk night air, her arms locked tightly around her.
"Hunter," he says gently, catching her attention, "Come sit by the fire."
He can read the exhaustion in every inch of her features as she stumbles up to her feet. Gone is any of the swiftness she'd had earlier, gone is the careful consideration of space. She all but collapses beside him, maintaining a few feet between them as she leans against the log behind her.
Shaxx unwinds his scarf from around his neck, gently draping it over her and she looks up at him with a startled expression while he settles back where he was. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches her snuggle down into the warm fabric, sharp emerald beginning to droop as sleep weighs heavily on her frame.
"Get some rest. I'll keep watch tonight."
She offers no response as she drifts off and the Warlord smiles slightly before settling in to keep watch.
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A distant howl startles her awake, frame bolting upright or at least as close to upright as she can get. There's...a restraint? It takes a moment for her sleep addled brain to process the fact that Lord Shaxx has an arm wound around her and he is substantially closer than he had been when she fell asleep. The fire is nothing but embers before them and her head lifts.
The mountainous bastard is asleep. She couldn’t pull away if she tried. His arm is like a steel bar around her waist, keeping her locked firmly against his side. She better have been freezing to death for him to pull something like this.
Of course, she can't deny how warm she is right now. His shoulder is comfortable, too.
Dammit.
She's not entirely sure how the hell he'd talked her into going with him. She's managed well enough on her own, but...he doesn't feel dangerous. With the Warlord, she could sense the danger, feel sparks of Light, the energy washing over her in waves so harshly that it struck her very core. Whereas he was overpowering, Shaxx's Light is...gentle. It seems to brush against her in soothing current. There is no underlying malice, no shred of contempt. Just warmth.
He's not...evil.
Her eyes zero in on his arm around her, the shredded fabric between his pauldron and gauntlet specifically. It's where she slashed him when she woke up. There's dried blood along the edges, the slash scar still very much evident beneath it. His Ghost must have healed it during their trek and it makes her feel a little bit better about attacking him. Her fingers tentatively ghost along the marred ridge. She hadn't meant to hurt him.
She thought he was - well, the Warlord. She'd woken up fifteen times to a knife, a sword, a fist, even a boot to the face. She was so sure the sixteenth awakening would be no different. She was going to put up a fight, hurt them as they had hurt her.
I'm sorry.
Fingers brush over it again before she freezes. She can feel him shift, his other hand gently taking hers and guides it away from the scar.
He's awake - but for how long?
"You should be resting." He murmurs, sleep heavy in his voice.
She doesn't answer, emerald fixated on the tender manner by which his hand is holding hers. His grip is firm, but gentle all at once, almost as if he's afraid he'll shatter her if he presses too hard.
"Go to sleep," he orders gruffly, but there is no edge to it. There's...nothing aggressive in the way he says it. He just wants her to sleep.
She tears her eyes away from his hand over hers long enough to look up at him. She's not sure if his eyes are open or not beneath that helmet but his head is tilted back against the log and she can feel no tension in his frame aside from the hold he has around her waist.
He truly is a mountainous bastard - keeping her close to ensure she doesn't run while simultaneously keeping her warm. She's never seen someone so large, so potentially dangerous, yet...so gentle. He's like one of those, oh, what did those children call them? Teddy bears! That's what it was. He's soft despite all appearances to the contrary.
At least, she hopes she's right. He could be concealing any and all hostility to lull her into a false sense of security.
But then why would he be holding her right now? If he'd wanted to kill her, he'd have done it when she passed out beneath his scarf. She recognizes this as paranoia but she also can't just discount what her instincts tell her.
Shaxx is safe to be around - to a point. She had yet to discover that point of tension or danger. But she can trust him for now.
He did, after all, grant her mercy despite their first encounter involving her shredding his arm with a knife and then trying to stab him in the neck.
"Hunter," he whispers, squeezing her lightly in a half awake daze, "Stop overthinking and go to sleep. We move at first dawn."
Right. Easier said than done.
She decides he's the closest she'll get to any sort of bed or source of comfort, so she settles in against his side once more. His arm blocks the wind from her face and she tugs the scarf up to her chin. Really, the fabric is more like a blanket given the size of it, but it serves its purpose. She wonders for a moment if he's cold, if he's uncomfortable holding her and acting as a human shield against the elements but the soft snore that greets her ears after a minute of silence quashes those questions.
Sleep comes easier then. She forgets to pull her hand from his grasp and he is still holding it when she drifts off.
After all, what harm could it do?
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